


Vanilla and Bonfire

by OneOrganisedMess



Series: Hogwarts A/O/B AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Draco Malfoy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Breeding, Claiming, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, F/F, F/M, Far too much time spent on lesson timetables, Feminization, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Kinda, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Not Beta Read, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Top Draco Malfoy, True Mates, You Have Been Warned, and also sexy, but not really undertones, innocence kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOrganisedMess/pseuds/OneOrganisedMess
Summary: Robin is the new boy, all wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked, and mouthwateringly Omegan, so who is to blame when the Slytherin king wants a bite of this pint-sized princess?---OR, the A/B/O Hogwarts Seventh year AU that absolutely nobody asked for. Liberties have been taken (NO return of Voldemort, as well as others). This will be shameless but I will not apologise. If you're looking for Possessive Sexy Jealous Boyfriend Draco, you have come to the right place.





	Vanilla and Bonfire

* * *

 

The early morning rays of September sunshine were blinding as they streaked through the frost-tinted train windows, the low sun illuminating the wooden age-worn carriages. Despite the rather close compartments of the express, the autumn chill still bit against the boy’s cheeks, turning the pale skin slightly rosy, -red as newly plucked apples. Robin sighed, rubbing sweating palms against his uniform, the scratchy material brand new and still slightly stiff. The collar caught on the sensitive skin just below his jaw, agitating his delicate glands enough to drive the boy to near distraction. The uniform felt slightly incomplete with a lack of tie and house colours, something the headmaster had assured would be rectified once arriving at the castle. Still, Robin nervously tugged at his collar once more and with a murmur of satisfaction, popped the bothersome top button with an instantaneous breath of release. _There, much better._

Robin gazed back out the rattling glass, the window a perfect frame of the beautiful rushing highland terrain. He’d not made friends, despite what his Gran had wholeheartedly believed as she’d waved him off tearfully, big doe eyes glistening and an embroidered hankie raised to her mouth. He’s strained for as long as possible, chestnut curls blown array as he’d stretched to gaze at the rapidly shrinking figure of his Grandmother, until nothing could be seen of his short, softly spoken non-blood relative. 

Robin thought nothing of sliding into the first available carriage, nerves disguised behind a confident front _-that crumbled quickly, unsurprisingly._ The body-worn seat was hardly warmed before Robin had excused himself timidly, had felt the heat of the others upon his back. Upon his neck _._  

The carriage corridor would suffice, one hand propped against the jolting wall whilst the other held a pumpkin pasty, of which he munched on quietly, cheeks still aflame from moments earlier. 

To his horror, Robin had been mistaken as a first year by the sweet, but ageing, Trolly Lady. With heated cheeks and a few coins, he’d taken a pumpkin pasty without correcting the elderly Witch. He couldn’t find the heart to correct her as with hands not un-similar to his gran, she’d pat his cheeks with a wish of luck on his _first year at Hogwarts._  

Groaning at the memory, Robin attempted to cool his flaming cheeks while simultaneously ignoring the newly forming sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d been _assured_ by no less than the _headmaster himself,_ that he absolutely would **_not,_** have to attend to house sorting with the first years, as a _seventh_ year himself, thank you very much.

Polishing off the pasty, Robin stared out at the Autumn landscape, the cold beginning to take its grasp on the highland terrain. Rather beautiful in its emptiness, otherworldly almost Robin couldn’t help but notice the saddening difference to what he’s used to. Southern France this time of year was still rather warm, bathed in Spanish sent warmth.

Deep in thought, not something that could be said to be unusual of the boy, Robin practically squeaked at the rough shove to his back, hands softening his blow against the rattling window as bodies shoved passed. 

“Watch it short stack _,”_ One called arrogantly, -an obvious seventh year, “find a carriage before we _make_ you.” Another tossed over their shoulder, spinning to face Robin briefly with a sly smirk on their face and a podgy finger proudly pointed at a badge pinned lopsided on their jumper. Robin squints, _Prefect,_ in shining letters glaring back at him. There’s a third, who simply stares a little too long as if contemplating _something,_ eyes fixed on Robin’s face till they glide down smoothly to visible collar. Robin gulps, hand raising to his exposed neck self consciously.

The friends share a house, silver and green tie’s standing proudly, and a gender. All _alphas._ He’s not sure who pushed him, but he’s had enough warning to high tail it, preferably in the opposite direction to the group. Chewing nervously on his lip, Robin begins his retreat. 

“Oi! Shove off Goyle, -you fat nosed _git,_ pick someone your own size for once will ya?” For the second time, Robin has to fight the instinctual squeal that makes its way up his throat, as a mass of ruby red hair paired with a freckled covered face bursts from the compartment on his immediate right, a waft of muted Beta scent hitting Robin squarely, hints of freshly rain covered grass. The pudgy one- _Goyle,_  he guesses, takes a step back their way, his own musk, -something Robin can only liken to  _burnt toast,_  rather unpleasant, encroaches on his senses. 

“And what about it _Weasley?”_ Robin frowns at the way he calls the boys name as the green tied boy again proudly points out the metal adorned his jumper, _“Prefect,_ remember? I could give you detention just for saying my name you _scabby little blood traitor-”_

“I wouldn’t finish that if I were you, _Goyle,”_ This time a mop of raven hair pokes out, glasses balanced on a strong nose. He smiles, pointing to his own garments and Robin catches another flash of metal. “Head boy, _remember?”_ Green eyes crinkle in amusement. Goyle takes another step, big thick legs closing the gap, and Robin feels the final grip on his natural response slip. He tries not to hate himself as a small muted whimper leaves his nervously chewed lips.

Five pairs of eyes flicker his way and a second humiliating _Omegan whimper_  leaves his traitorous lips.

“Just as I thought,” Robin flicks watering eyes towards the silent green tied boy, worry squeezing his stomach before settling as he watches the boy grasp Goyle’s shoulder, the bulky Alpha unaware of his steps towards Robin, as he guides the fuming prefect away. This boy smells of Cognac and cigar _smoke_ while reeking of unmistakably _Dominant Alpha pheromones_.

“Sorry about him, letting the job go to his big empty head again.” The boy said smoothly, much to the annoyance of his friend, who barrels by him muttering under his breath. Once the agitated boy has left the carriage Robin feels the atmosphere lighten, albeit only slightly. The boy nods their way with a cool, “Weasley, _Potter,_ ” aimed at the red and raven-haired boys respectively. Polite, _not friendly,_ Robin notes.

“Zabini, _try_ and keep him in line would you?” Potter calls as the boy, _Zabini,_  and the girl follow their fuming friend. Zabini let’s out an ill-mannered snort as he and the unnamed girl disappear through the connecting carriage door, wood creaking as they go.

At the slam of the carriage door two sets, no - _three,_ sets of eyes are focused wholly on him. He’s had enough confrontation for one day, he thinks bitterly. The three pairs of eyes, however, seem to disagree as a voice breaks the silence once more. _So much for a quick getaway._

“Hermione Granger, a pleasure to meet you.” A strong voice cuts, paired with a mass of curling brown locks and warm toned eyes. A peppering of freckles over a delicate nose softens her appearance, and unlike the other three, a warm gold and red tie lies beneath her jumper. She does share one thing with the green ties, and as her Alpha scent invades his air he’s just thankful she doesn’t offer out a hand to shake. Robin smiles timidly. Unfortunately, the other Alpha doesn’t follow suit.

Cutting green eyes and a large strong hand are aimed in Robin’s direction “Harry, Harry Potter. Oh, yes also nice to meet you…” The boy adds on in awkward afterthought, his hand going a little too long without Robin reaching for it, and he wonders if the nervous looking boy knows what Robin _is._ His mortifying squeak had been enough for the bushy haired Alpha. Robin shuffles awkwardly, glands beginning to hurt in frustration and inaction. 

Alpha’s don’t shake unmated Omegan hands. Omegas follow Alpha demands. This Alpha is offering his hand. Robin is an unmated _Omega he_   _shouldn’t shake_  his hand, but then what if this boy gets _angry_ like _Coyle_ did, or was it _Moyle?_  With a trembling hand, Robin lifts his sizably smaller one towards Harry, eyes downcast.

“ _Merlin_ Harry, can’t you see he’s shitting it?” The hand is knocked away by another larger, freckled one. Robin’s initial panic subsides and he lets out a much-needed breath, shoulders visibly relaxing as he shakes the Beta’s warm hand, that fresh scent once again surrounding them, “Ron Weasley at your service.” The boy says with a wolfish grin, but Robin doesn’t feel uneased as such a smile usually would. He finds himself smiling back.

“I’m Robin.” His timid smile is met with three bright ones.

* * *

 


End file.
